Vice Versa
by writingstars
Summary: RENT fanfic. My first. Mark and Roger realize that they need each other. Lots of emotion and some M/R slash. Please R & R
1. The Storm

A/N: It all belongs to the genius Jonathan Larson, though I wish it belonged to me. This is my first RENT fanfic and I would really like your input so review please! There will be a little M/R slash later on, but it wont be bad. From Roger's POV.  
  
--------------  
  
I mentally checked off all the people he cared about that were still living.  
  
- Family: Haven't talked to them in 3 months - Collins: Working in Santa Fe teaching at a local college while running Café de Angel - Maureen and Joanne: Still living in New York, but on vacation together in Canada. Maureen was doing a one-time show there. - Mark: The one who meant more than anything to me was right there as always, but now, so far away. Hooked up to all sorts of tubing and machines.  
  
Lets see, today is Wednesday. Maureen and Joanne should get here tonight. They scratched their plans as soon as they heard how sick Mark was. I looked over at Mark, sleeping for the first time in 24 hours. I wondered if it was induced by medication. It didn't matter. Mark needed rest badly. It had been a long two days.  
  
Monday Mark woke up not feeling so well. This was a switch because ever since Mimi's death a year ago, I (the AIDS-infected Roger) was usually the one in that position. For 2 months after Mimi left, I barely moved and only ate meagerly and only when no one was watching. The whole time, Mark never left my side. When I got sick, Mark was the one there to feed me my medicine. So when Mark didn't feel well, I had no problem making him a small breakfast, putting him back to bed and going out to buy some groceries and Pepto-Bismol.  
  
When I walked into the loft an hour later, I heard sounds coming from the bathroom. I put down the two bags of groceries on the table and went to see if everything was all right. I gently knocked and then opened the door to the bathroom. "Mark?" Mark was on the floor covered with the vomit that didn't make it to the toilet. At a closer look, Mark was crying. *Oh God, he must be miserable* I grabbed a washcloth, ran some water over it, and bent down to wipe off Mark's face. At first Mark turned away.  
  
"Come on, Mark, its me, Roge. Its ok man, don't be embarrassed."  
  
Mark gave in and I gently wiped off his mouth and face. I sat down on the sticky floor and put his arm around Mark. He was sweating profusely.  
  
"Mark, are you ok? What's wrong? What hurts?"  
  
Mark's forehead was burning up. And his skin felt so clammy. Mark started moaning and kicking his legs grasping at his stomach. And then he vomited again, all over me. This made Mark more ashamed and he started to cry even harder. Even if it didn't turn out to be that serious, I thought it was best to go to the hospital and see if they could make it better. And I had a feeling it was serious. Mark never got sick and was always so strong. For him to be open with how weak he was, it had to be serious.  
  
"Mark, its ok. Everything is gonna be alright. But you're sick and burning up. We have to go see a doctor. I'm gonna go call the hospital. Ok, buddy?"  
  
Mark just lay sobbing on the floor. He must have felt horribly to not object to going to the hospital. He knew it was the only doctor we could get, and he hates doctors and hospitals. Even since his little sister died when he was in high school. He was closer to her than he was to anyone else, and it killed him to see her suffer so much and then die in a hospital. After calling for an ambulance (the only way to get to the hospital I packed in a bag some extra clothes for the both of them, some cereal, a book of phone numbers and the blanket off of Mark's bed. I also packed my AZT, so Mark would be proud.  
  
I knew it could be a while before the ambulance showed up. They know that its not a real emergency. When I walked back into the stench of the bathroom, Mark was shaking and coughing violently between his heaves. All I could do was sit and stroke Mark's hair and be with him until the ambulance came. We rocked back and forth as I racked his mind thinking of what could be wrong. Mark wasn't HIV positive like most of the rest of us were. He hadn't been around anyone sick.  
  
"Roger." Mark said between sobs, "ummm, you are gonna go with me to the, the." He couldn't make it to the end of the sentence without puking again. I grabbed his hand.  
  
I wiped off his face and said, "Of course Mark, I'll be with you the whole time. I'm not leaving you. Everything will be ok."  
  
Wow, when I'm sick and sad, Mark always seems to be more comforting than that But my pitiful words seemed to be enough of an assurance to Mark who tried to give a weak smile. You could tell how weak he was.  
  
"Thanks, friend. Now where is that ambulance?"  
  
Then I heard the paramedics pull up. I tried to help pull the small blonde headed boy up and then seeing he was too weak to stand, I picked him up and carried him downstairs to the waiting medics. Every movement seemed painful to Mark. They made him lie down in the ambulance and you could tell Mark tensed up. Though small, Mark was always the strong one. Giving me help, hope and courage. Now he was terrified and it ripped my heart out to see. He was still vomiting and his stomach still in great pain. He let out a shriek when he lay down again. He also was having problems breathing.  
  
I sat by his head and squeezed his held. Mark started breathing quicker and I tried to calm him down. The medic treated us with gentleness, a rare thing for the poor bohemian inhabitants. As he explained that Mark needed an IV so he would not become dehydrated, he brought out a needle. I soon realized that Mark was terrified of needles. He started shaking and kicking and trying to get away.  
  
"Hey Marky, it's gonna be ok. These people are trained to do this stuff well. It won't hurt at all and it will make you feel better" ::Almost screaming:: "No please, no needles. I so scared." "Shhhh, come on. It will be ok. I promise. I'm right here beside you. Don't be scared." "Tha. Thanks"  
  
Even though he was still sobbing, Mark calmed down enough to get the IV. I held down his arm. He screamed and kicked as the needle went in and the rest of the way to the hospital. It was the hardest thing in the world for me to hold him down against his will and subject him to pain. It hurt worse than anything seeing someone so close so distraught. Mark's whole body was shaking.  
  
"Roger! ROGER! MAKE IT STOP! GOD IT HURTS!"  
  
He squeezed my hand so hard, I thought it would break. Right before we got to the hospital, I think they put something in his IV to help sedate him and help with the pain. I was thankful for by this time, I couldn't be strong. I couldn't even stop crying. 


	2. Stinging Sleet

A/N: It all belongs to the genius Jonathan Larson, though I wish it belonged to me. Thank you for all your reviews on chapter one. I know its not really good from a technical stand point, I'm just writing down what I feel.  
  
--------------  
  
At this point I don't remember much. As they rushed Mark into the ER, he fell unconscious. They asked me lots of questions but I couldn't think straight to answer them. For the first time I realized I might lose Mark. It didn't seem possible. I, I. loved him. He was the one who patiently put up with me as I destroyed his property and screamed at him. He always knew what to do, knew what to say at Mimi's funeral, and knew how to make me feel better. Now there was nothing I could do to make him feel better.  
  
Following the gurney, a nurse at a desk stopped me. She told me that only family could go into the ER. I tried to explain that we were brothers, but she wouldn't buy it. Then a male nurse walked up and assured the first nurse we were in fact family. Then he introduced himself to me as Nick and that he understood what family really meant. He led me to the ER room.  
  
There were lots of doctors and nurses working over Mark. Apparently, he was now conscious and coughing up blood. He looked so scared and helpless while they were poking and prodding on him. I wanted to leave, but that was out of the question. I wasn't there for April and I wasn't there for Mimi at the hospital, but I had learned my lesson. Swallowing my fears I went to him and took his hand. He was screaming and struggling wildly as another IV line was inserted and injections were administered. One nurse put a breathing mask on him and another was taking off his clothes. I asked him if he wanted me to leave, but he shook his head and squeezed my hand tighter. I just held his hand and rubbed his hair as they were pricking him and sampling him.  
  
They said they had to take his temperature, but couldn't take it orally because of the mask. So they rolled him on his side as he started to cry. The look in his eyes as he looked at me was unforgettable. They spread his cheeks and inserted a thermometer into his butt. The embarrassment and fear of the situation was too much. But he was way to weak and tired to struggle anymore. I leaned in close and did the only thing I knew to do; I started singing. My voice was weak but it didn't seem to matter to Mark. He calmed a little and in a minute it was all over.  
  
Then the vomiting started again and they had to take the mask off. The next ordeal was not as pleasant. Nick pulled down the sheet off Mark's front and produced a mass of tubing. He looked at us apologetically. Mark started squirming and hid his face. He knew where it was headed. As the nurse cleaned him up, Mark motioned for me to sing again. So I did. I knew he was nervous. I held his hand and rubbed his leg as the nurse spread his legs apart. She put in a Foley catheter. He grimaced and squeezed my hand awfully hard so apparently it really hurt. Then Nick started pushing around up there to make sure the tube wasn't lodged incorrectly and Mark finally screamed "STOP THAT ALREADY!" He was so humiliated and he couldn't hide the tears that were sliding down his cheeks. I turned away to hide mine. Nick said it was necessary but he was sorry and covered him up. With two more painful shots to the buttocks, Nick explained that Mark's breathing was improving so he would be getting his own room.  
  
Nick rolled Mark to room 541 and helped us get settled. He put an oxygen monitor on Mark's finger and made sure everything else was ok. He also helped Mark put on a hospital gown. Five minutes later, Mark was asleep. I was a wreck. Nick came in again to make sure everything was ok and put on the oxygen mask. "It will help while he is sleeping," I was told. Nick asked me some more questions about Mark. I told him he hadn't eaten any funny foods and didn't have AIDS, though I did. Nick asked us if we were together. I don't know why, but that made me cry even more. But I assured him we weren't. He then asked me if there was anyone I needed to call. Somehow I got out "Maureen" and explained her number was in the bag. Nick was kind enough to call the number and explain what was happening.  
  
I went over to the bed, and just watched him breathe. Mark slept though the day and the night. A nurse came in in the middle of the night to make sure everything was well. I asked her what was wrong with Mark but I didn't remember what she said. I had forgotten to ask Nick. Eventually I dozed off and when I awoke I found a quick nap had done me well. I felt better about things. I found Mark's charts and tried to make them out. Basically no one had any idea what was wrong, but it didn't seem to be life threatening. It was such a relief. Just staring at him and watching him live was such a joy. My Mark.  
  
Once Mark had told me that he had homosexual feelings towards me. I couldn't handle that. I was straight and I sure told him so. Right before I ran out of the house and didn't come back for a week. When I came home, he was waiting with my AZT and help to get over the massive withdrawal. And I realized it didn't matter he was gay. That's the way things were. It didn't really change anything. Now, I wonder if maybe I have the same feelings. I mean, no way, I'm straight, but I. I love him.  
  
When Mark woke up the next morning, the catheter was hurting him something awful. He said he was strong enough to pee in a bucket. The hospital was extra busy because of a major fire and we couldn't get a nurse who cared. Nick was off duty. While I held his other hand, Mark pulled out the catheter, almost bringing tears to Mark. I admire him; apparently it hurt to take out as well. Whatever medicine he was on wore out and he started vomiting and coughing again. There was no one to clean him up except me.  
  
"Roge, no need to do that. I'm just gonna puke again."  
  
Putting on a smile I said, "Stop talking you old windbag, it's the least I can do for my best friend."  
  
After an hour of vomiting, Mark wasn't even puking food, just stomach acid. And he could barely talk from all of that acid on his throat. But it was ok. I read him some magazines that were in our room and sang him a song. He seemed content and happy to know that Maureen and Joanne were coming. He was dozing off again when he uncomfortably shifted and squeezed my hand.  
  
"You ok Marky?" I asked.  
  
"Ummm. I'm ok. Could you get a nurse?"  
  
"Sure I can try," I assured him. "Will you be ok alone here for a second?"  
  
He nodded and I left on my quest. The nurses' station looked abandoned and no one was in the halls. An elderly hospital visitor said there was only one nurse on the floor and she was busy with critical care cases. I thanked the woman (who reminded me of my grandma) and went back to the room. When I walked in, I could smell it. The shamed look on Mark's face explained it all. He looked up, saw I was alone, and started crying.  
  
With his voice breaking he said, "I hate being in the hospital! It's just so humiliating. They talk to you like you're a child and the. then don't help you."  
  
I ran to him and gave him a big hug. I just let him cry.  
  
"No its horrible. I can't even look at you. I'm helpless and ashamed to have anyone see me like this. I'm a grown man and I'm now covered in my own wastes and vomit and blood and no one's here! You've seen me naked now Roger. They poked into my butt and my crotch, I couldn't do anything about it. It's horrible!"  
  
"Mark, honey, its ok. I am here. You're sick, you're weak, and that's nothing to be ashamed of. Listen to me, I'm your best friend and you are mine. There's nothing to hide. We've seen the best and the worst of each other ok?"  
  
He nodded, but looked like a small, scared child.  
  
"Here's the deal, you weren't the only one to see a loved one get sick as a child. I had to take care of my dad when he was bedridden. I can wash you up and change your sheets. I'll do it for you if you want me to, or we can wait for a nurse."  
  
"Roge, I don't know what to say. Thank you. ::breaks up:: I. its just. thanks." "Its ok Mark, no words. Its ok. You were there for me when I got AIDS and when I lost April and then Mimi. Those times were all hard for you too, but I wasn't there for you. This is like payback."  
  
In the cabinets I found a tube of hospital soap/shampoo, fresh sheets and a new hospital gown. Gently I pulled away the soiled sheets and old gown away from Mark's body. I slowly washed Mark's small body. He'd been getting skinnier. He moaned when I washed his backside. I forgot it would still be tender from the injections he got in the ER. When I washed his front side he got a little excited if ya know what I mean. He was very embarrassed, but it was ok. I told him there was nothing to hide, I knew his secret.  
  
The truth was there was something to hide. While Mark was so sure of his sexuality, I wasn't.  
  
I finished washing him, patted him dry and changed his sheets. Then I broke down. I felt so bad, but I had to get out of the room. I told Mark through my tears I'd be back. I left him alone in his hospital room, calling out my name, begging me to come back. 


End file.
